Muscle Memory
by Onyxx-09
Summary: Three things that have made this day even worse: it's obvious that Scott thought this trip to the mall would be one-on-one with Jean. Two, that Peter had been dragged along despite his broken leg. And three, that Peter's ex is sitting right across from them, nostalgic and regretting. Wait, Scott could have some with this. Instigator AU-ish, no spoilers. Pietro/OC. Apocalypse verse.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Ok so listen! I went to see X-Men Apocalypse not too long ago (twice) and I pre-warned that I was feeling motivated and inspired. So this is the end product.**_

 _ **This is a sort of three(?)-shot collab with Lyra, the prompt being "what if they meet up years later?" SO! This takes place in the xma universe, a sort of branched au in the Instigator series. While it does take place after Touch, it doesn't give anything away. This takes place two weeks after xma and there continues to be a sort of preordained tie between the two.**_

 _ **Lyra's the brains behind this, so thank her. If you don't like it, blame me.**_

 _ **[Disclaimer:]** __I do not own anything connected with Marvel or Fox, just my OCs_ _ **]**_

* * *

...

* * *

Timeline 2

* * *

 _Two weeks later_

* * *

Jean has learned a lot from her Professor.

She's learned how to think quickly and critically, how to penetrate undetected and infiltrate an opponent's psyche and zero-in on certain memories, emotions, strengths— _surprise_. He's taught her how to dig deep and bring forth the most hidden, submerged, and sometimes the most forgotten.

Jean Grey is telepathic—a psychic some have mistaken—with great potential.

She's learned how to pinpoint certain emotions and find certain memories that may have been buried or lost, and bring them to the forefront. She's learned how to discover secrets and is learning how to suppress the unwanted.

Jean Grey is telepathic and a telekinetic, and as instructed practice one afternoon, she had voluntarily infiltrated people's minds. But some things are repressed for a purpose, some secrets are kept for a reason, buried to never be spoken of again.

It was a mistake to go snooping around in people's minds.

For example—

It has not been long after the mansion-turned-school had been rebuilt—and an additional three bedrooms and a bath have been installed, new furniture and fridge; the split oak in the back acres is in the process of being uprooted. Classes had not resumed yet—it wasn't going to for another two or three weeks because of trauma—and it had all been practice, really, the mind-infiltrating; a harmless exercises that hadn't meant to derive any unfavorable consequences. She had been under order anyway—

And yet...

She had removed her hands from her subject and was met with the vaguest facial expressions of a mix of betrayal, incredulity, and—anger, _sorrow_.

She had seen a flash of ombre brown hair, bleached lighter along the ends; a pair of plump lips pulling in a snarky grin; a laugh; a golden heart-shaped locket, and  
begrudging, remorse, bliss, self-condemnation.  
Of something broken  
Something possessed

WAYWARD

Of something lost  
 _It had been a memory most repressed, almost as if trying to forget_

DENY

This had all been a mistake, and she reiterated apology after apology.

She had gone and spoken about it to Jubilation later because Scott had been angered, having fallen for a prank pulled by their currently crippled house guest—and how exactly had someone which their entire leg in a cast _still_ pull such a prank remains a mystery.

Jubilation had been discussing plans with Kurt about their next outing, and re-watching Return of The Jedi was in question—by Kurt, of course.

Jubilation shrugs to Jean as an answer.

The redhead listens to the two's chatter, watching students shooting hoops on the basketball court from one of the mansion's wide glass-panel windows. Somewhere in the house, a glass cup shatters on the wood floor.

* * *

It had all been a mistake—letting her in, saying _yes_ —

He should have never lent her permission into his mind. Because now it was cracked open, a bandage torn from a wound sealed for years that now, all of forgotten memories, abandoned emotions and faces came bleeding out as a trickle at first, but now was a steady pour.

He remembers things now that he would have rather kept in the back of his mind: of blood on restroom walls; of sleepless nights and arguments; of hospital visits and popsicles and old friends; an earring that sits forgotten on one of the shelves back in his basement room, its original owner laughing, teasing, doting.

He had forgotten all about that earring.

 _How long has it been?_

But that isn't important. Not now, not ever. And he makes a mental note to throw the earring out when he finally returns.

Jean has come and apologized repeatedly about pulling forth those memories but she could feel that the onrush had already begun. He knew that she must have felt partially responsible despite him telling that it was all good and there was nothing to worry about—that was a lie—it must have been because of his poor attitude. It was because of his bitter, sullen attitude.

And now he was stuck here with the lot of them in public.

Kurt had gotten his wish a day later and all had traversed to the local mall. All Jubilation, Kurt, Scott, Jean, and Pietro. The latter hadn't been too eager, however. The poorly constructed kidnapping had happened while Pietro had finally been able to catch the four o'clock news.

 _"No."_

 _"What do you mean no?"_

 _"It's a word used or answer when you don't want to do something, like go out with a bunch of rug-rats."_

 _He didn't want be the third wheel,_

 _Though he was the main one complaining about not going out._

 _"Doesn't matter. You're still coming so I can have an opportunity to get revenge."_

 _"Yeah that's not likely, four eyes."_

 _"Whatever. But just so you know, Jean says to be ready in five minutes. If you're not, she's making you. And she's the one who decided, not me."_

 _Because, technically, they won't be out unsupervised. So, theoretically speaking, they could be out all day._

 _"Um no. Still not going!"_

He watches as Jean grabs Jubilation's wrist and rush to the counter of one of the food-court restaurants just as a crowd arrives. Kurt follows soon after. Scott shoved his hands in his Mavi denim jeans, and frowns at a group of teenage girls whispering jerks wearing sunglasses indoors. Pietro leans his weight on his good leg, running a heavy hand through his front bangs and contemplating that he probably needs a trim by now. There's a long scar on the inside of his arm, and reminisce of pain from his arm dislocating shoots from his shoulder to his fingertips.

It's been two and a half weeks since halting a potential apocalypse by an omnipotent false god. And in the process of cocky and pig-headedness, Pietro had gotten his left arm twisted and leg snapped. His arm no longer needs a sling and his leg was close to healed, but he was still confided to a cast and now refuses to go around with _two_ crutches like some kind of _pitiful dope_.

He had still been immobile when Jean first approached with the permission to perform her mind assignment. It had all seemed fun, simple, harmless.

Letting Jean in had been a mistake he regrets.

Really, there must have been other, better things Pietro could have been doing with his time: there still was Hank's club sandwich in the fridge that needed to be eaten, a novel he still hasn't finished, a game of Follow The Queen happening in an hour, the new episode to his soap opera in two, and—

Really, he could have found something else to do with his time.

Really, there was nothing else to do with his time.

The girls and Kurt return with smoothies, Jean holding two, handing one to the mutant with the healing leg and ignores Scott's outright bafflement. Pietro knows this is all a part of her continuing apology but doesn't object this time, for once—because it's free food, and who doesn't like free things?

Scott gives another deriding look, but this one is more of envy. He calls to Jean that the other could get his own smoothie, and her response was to _shush_ and she wasn't going to make Pietro limp all the way over there by himself, and "why? Are you jealous?"

Scott scoffs, almost stammering. "Of course not!"

Jean rolls her eyes.

Pietro is looking at him with a shrewd raise of an eyebrow. "You look kinda jealous to me," he comments around his red straw.

"Can it, wise guy!" A rosy blush glows just under the flesh of Scott's neck.

Pietro slurps loudly.

It's been two and a half weeks since everything has returned to moderately normal.

An hour into the mall expedition, Pietro's upper right thigh was beginning to cramp, and he regrets not bringing that second crutch. As he hobbles behind the teens, focusing more on the dim reflection of his foot in the flooring, Jean looks over her shoulder and asks if he was alright—which he knew meant was he keeping up. He knows she brought him along as a way of her ongoing apology.

Pietro represses a sneer in response, and grunts.

He hates this.

No, hate was too _light_ of a word.

Scott snides that for once, that he's starting to correspond with his hair color, _"moving slow like an old geezer."_ Pietro almost makes a swing right there in the middle of the mall. He comes close to looses his footing instead.

He _hates_ this.

Pietro has a short fuse

Scott gives the widest, smug look on his face.

Pietro glowers, leaning on his single crutch.

It's been two and a half weeks since everything has returned to moderately normal. Moira MacTaggert had insisted that she not overstay her welcome and was back in her single CIA office and small, vacant apartment whose fridge held a head of lettuce and a packet of lunch meat and American cheese slices. She calls her son on the corded phone and makes sure to smile and not tell a soul of where she had really been.

There had been a funeral for Alex Summers, and Scott tells that it had been strained and mournful, that it will all be a lot quieter now.

And Raven, she had left—again. No one knows why, but it had been after some conversation with Kurt. And Erik...

Erik Lensherr was barely there, but that too allowed for breathing room.

 _If only Pietro could be back in his room_...

"Look, all I'm saying is that for such a far out guy, Solo could have maybe gone about the whole _rescue thing_ a bit more strategic." Scott pointed a finger around his paper cup of soda. All had agreed on a lunch break. "And they could have given the sarlacc more teeth and a tongue. It'd look scarier."

"Well, I dont know. It'd be too traumatizing for the audience, because then it would be too interchangeable from your face, since that's what they modeled it after, Clydesdale," Pietro chimes in, calmly.

Scott's neck snaps around. "Watch yourself, bub. Or someone's going to have to stop you from falling over again."

"Oh, bite me. With those snail reflexes? "

"Before you call others snails, make sure _you_ can _keep_ _up_."

Pietro's face fell. "You do know that as soon as I'm out of this thing I'm coming after you, right?"

Scott leaned forward, propping an elbow on the tabletop. "Bring it on, goggles."

Pietro sneers.

Kurt has his hands up trying to bring down the arguing. Jubilation is betting on Scott, at least for the first round. Jean rolls her eyes and is attempting to hold in her chuckles when she catches sight of someone crossing the food-court. For some reason, she catches sight of two woman and her gaze _sticks_. Both were not much older than them, and were talking. One, the first woman, has strawberry blonde hair cascading down one shoulder and jaunty, a radiant sort of garish style that echoes Jubilation's; and the other—

Jean's hand falls from her chin to the table. She barely stops herself from standing and screeching her chair across the floor.

She's seen that woman before.

Scott and Pietro's bickering fizzle out. Lunch returns to usual temper and Jean continues to stare. She watches the second woman, the one with curled dark brown hair, pause to dig through her purse. This woman held extreme familiarity—a short woman with a focused gaze and unfaltering poise, full lips curling in a small grin as the strawberry blonde speaks.

 _Jean's seen that woman before!_

Jean turns back forward, clamping her hand over Scott's wrist. He turns from Kurt.

"What times does that movie start again?" Jean's hurried, anxious, and he raises an eyebrow, glancing at his watch.

"6:50," he answers. "Because we're going to miss the one that starts before that one—-" He doesn't finish as Jean yanks him from his chair and in the direction of the food-court's exit.

"Then we have to hurry up so we can make the first one!"

Scott sputters.

The rest hurry to follow after Jean's call, all just as startled; Jubilation hooks a hand around Pietro's elbow, and he tries to slurp the last of his soda.

Scott waits until they've gained distance to hiss what was wrong. Jean glances over her shoulder. Her expression changes from anxious to serious.

"I need your help." _He's all ears_ , he tells her, so: "you remember when Professor gave me that telepath assignment?"

Scott nods.

The other near closer and she grips him above the elbow and drags him to the side. They had exited the food-court, nearing the joined theater. Jean calls back that they'll meet at the ticket booth. Jubilation is the only one who looks suspicious as they go past.

Jean lowers her voice as they step off to the side. "Well you remember that time I had done it on Peter?"

"Yeah," and Scott crosses his arms. "He's still bitter about that?"

"I think so. I don't know." She thinks he's still holding resentment for that. Her eyes search for the two women in the crowd, finding them approaching the ticket booth; luckily there were four people before them. Jean points out the one in question. "You see that woman, the one with the brown hair? I _saw_ her."

At first, Scott is confused. He asks to get a closer look. "What do you mean you _saw_?"

"I-I saw _her_ in his mind...I..." Her brows draw together and her arms are straight at her sides.

The two keep a distance, and Scott gets a side profile of the woman in question. Their cover was that he and Jean were looking for money for tickets.

"Who is she?" he mumbles.

Jean shrugs. She's holding the money for her movie ticket in a fist. "I don't...I'm not quite sure... But..."

" _But_...?" They are slowly approaching their place in line now. There's a couple before the two women who are given tickets and enter the theater.

Jean tries to recall the sequences of memories but it was all vague, ambiguous emotions and a jigsaw of images. "He got upset really quickly—-"

"What else is new?"

"-—No, I mean, like, this was something he was really, _really_ trying to hide, or forget, I think." She thought for a moment. "He felt really strongly..."

Scott shrugs. Jubilee is waving them over because it was almost their turn at the window. Ahead, the strawberry blonde is digging through her own bag now and the brunette friend rolls her eyes, insisting she pay for both of them. Her friend pouts, disagrees.

"So, who is she?" Scott asks. "A long lost sister? A bounty-hunter? His parole officer?"

Jean was hesitant because she wasn't one hundred percent certain herself, but she voices it aloud anyway. And when she does, Scott's brows arch incredulously.

He scoffs. "You-you think that's... _no way_!"

Jean nods. "That's the only thing, the only explanation that came to mind—!"

"How—-what? ...It's just—-" He's grinning now—and Jean knew it wasn't a good one. "...You know what? Never mind."

She tells him to not do anything drastic; he wasn't, he tells.

"Just thinking about possible vengeance." He chuckles, "this is _great_!"

"Seriously, Scott, no. And I need your help to see if we can try to get them back together. It's the only way."

His neck snaps around to her to stare skeptical before turning back to watch the two groups standing so near. That devilish grin returns. "But why do that when you can just have fun with—-"

"Scott, _no_."

He sighs. " _Yes ma'am_. As a way to get him to stop being mad at you, sure, I'll help."

"Thank you," she answers as Scott cracks his knuckles. Jean tells him not to do anything about it yet, that she has to think of a plan.

But he walks away before she finishes. And as he joins back with their group, he makes sure to sidle beside Pietro and, still holding a suave and a cocksure smile, nudges the other for attention. He leans in just a bit, points with a finger, and: "hey, Peter, didnt you say it was _that_ lady who seemed familar? Coincidence, huh?"

"I didn't say—-"

No one sees Jean press two fingers to her temple and coax the woman in front to look over her shoulder. For a split second, everything is unchanging, she's grinning, still in the mist of a joke.

And Pietro gapes. His eyes grow wide and her name— _Rainy_ —slips from his lips.

And then it's like the air has been sucked out, like there's an icy cold electric shock that shoots through him, and the way he is standing stock-still is almost _alarming_ and unsettling. Because there's practically a look of _horror_ followed by realization and then apprehension that appears on her face that is uncharacteristically abnormal—and its like the earth stops for a moment, whether its by fear or relief or deja vu—

 _How long has it been?_

The strawberry blonde nudges her friend twice before gaining her attention and forcing a ticket in her hands as she's pulled into the theatre.

And Pietro is _rigid_. For once, he doesn't move, doesn't have a witty comeback, and is _winded_ as he stares with a wide, petrified stare.

 _Eyes_

And there had been such a bruising comeback for _four eyes_ ready on his tongue—because Scott had said it _so loudly_ that it couldn't _not_ be heard.

Pietro swears that his gut was in his throat and the rush of inside his ribs hasn't happened since _high school_ and—he's lucky that he had been using a crutch or he would have actually been on the floor.

The brunette had a bright, calculating, familiar stare.

Scott pats him on the back. "You look like you're about to choke, dude."

He swallows, speaks swiftly and in a very shaky tone, "you know I'm not really feeling this movie after all."

Jubilation is the one that grabs his arm, speaking "you don't mean that!" and "you'll change your mind when we're in there, I promise!" She pats him on the shoulder.

Pietro's healing leg goes weak and he almost looses his balance again there in the mall. There's a ringing in his ears, and Jean press two fingers to her temple as she spoke to the ticket teller. He's still shaken as they enter the theatre.

Scott holds a _thumbs up_ to Jean.

As they walk in, Jubilee falls back to whisper, "who's Rainy?"

Jean couldn't help the grin that comes to her face. "His ex."

Jubilee gasps too loudly.

* * *

 ** _A/N: This was originally planned to be a one-shot but it got out of hand (again, obviously) so this is the first part of this little short au sitch. Let me know what you think and then I'll post the next part asap._**


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Tell me if this sucks or not please.**_

* * *

...

* * *

Timeline 2

* * *

"What do you mean you saw—- _here_?! That's...that's _good_ , right?"

The brown-haired shrugs. Her fingers can't keep still and there's an icy-cold blanket of anxiety drench over her nerves. "I-I think I'm quite certain!" She looks around. The movie is about to start. She is twisting her fingers; the lights dim and she jumps to her feet. "I have to go. I can't stay here—-"

"Oh yes you are!" Her friend grabs her wrist as the theater goes completely dark. She's hissing in a whisper. "We paid for this. And we aren't going to leave until you finally see Star Wars. You promised, Rainy!"

She feels her pulse palpitating in her rib-cage and it's uncomfortable and foreign and it's—it's too _familiar_ , like something that should be in the past.

She gives up, of course—eventually.

 _It's been far too long._

 _Like a ghost._

 _ **. . .  
**_ _ **. . .**_

The film has already started when the young mutants enter the theater. Jean turns to the usher beside the door and presses two fingers to her temple, and requests a specific seating. Scott is holding Pietro's elbow who is scrutinizing the rows of the back of heads, agitated. He's chewing his lip red.

They are led to a row of five empty seats somewhere in the middle. Jean leads Pietro to the front and makes him enter the aisle first. There's grumbling, obviously, of latecomers blocking the view. And when the screen flashes, there are plasma-light bullets shooting from space-pistols, the faces of the audience illuminates, and there is the empty chairs before them as they shoot forward, and—then he _sees her_ again.

Pietro turns to scramble back into the walkway but Scott holds out a hand.

"Where are you going? Sit down!"

He hisses, a string of frustrated discombobulated fragments, embarrassed, and too fast to fully understand. "I need to move!" he says lastly in haste, and is _shhh_ -ed by the surrounding silhouettes.

The beginning montage of characters appear on the movie screen.

If Pietro were to sit, it would be right beside that brunette from earlier, the one he hadn't expected to see in this lifetime, when the icy fingers of regret and anxiety took hold and it felt like the world was ending.

The one closest looks to them once, turns back and tries to focus on the film. Her friend, the strawberry blonde, is squealing in excitement in her seat; the brunette is deadpanned.

Pietro looks to the far empty seat and the aisle seems _much too long_. He inhales extensively and deeply through his nostrils, exhales through gritted teeth—Scott shoves him forward and he stumbles, curses, and is _shush_ ed again.

Some things are forgotten;

Some things are left unfinished.

Scott whispers an apology to the women as he takes his seat, ducking under Pietro's glare and leaning across. And the brunette forces a small, accepting smile, shakes her head to tell it was ok, and her friend grabs her arm and forces her to look back at the screen.

And Pietro can feel his ears _burning_. He sighs, slumping in his chair because his chest is probably in his throat and words couldn't come much better, and his mind is a jumble of memories and mistakes and he wonders how he's gotten into this one.

He isn't sure how to go about this, whether he _should_ this time...

The woman beside him twists a silver ring around her middle finger—it's fake, something cheap bought from a jewelry kiosk. And there's an unsteady race in her chest and concentration is _strenuous_.

He glances at her once, and there is a deep remorse he feels, and takes another lungful, trying to concentrate on the the lightsabers and the protagonist's sudden destiny.

The tension is unmistakable, unmaskable, and it begins crawling up each's back, swirling in their minds like a worm, a distinguished intoxication, wringing them by the necks.

 _The air is awkward, nostalgic._

 _How long has it been?_

Jean leans across Kurt's lap and bumps knuckles with Scott. There would be no way to avoid it now.

Hopefully—she _hoped_ —that this would all go according to plan.

 _Full lips, brown hair, golden locket, one missing earring_

 _Pietro thinks she has bright, magnetizing eyes_

 _It's been much too long._

A piece of the past that has been forgotten, deliberately so. Something broken, something once possessed.

*Male voice-over*  
"Do you trust me?"

*Female voice-over*  
"Yes."

"Do you love me?"

 _"...Yes."_

Something lost.

There is a short, ten minute intermission somewhere in the middle of the film. The theater brightens and the audience rub their eyes, groans, and are still caught up in the action.

And Kurt is ecstatic, practically radiating delight. Scott still can't believe the other hadn't been to a movie theater before. Jean presses her fingers to her temple as she keeps watch of the audience around them, creating an illusion around Kurt's appearance. There is a commercial playing that shows a kaleidoscope of concession foods, reminding the audience to buy.

Pietro is the first to rise; Scott holds out a hand again, stopping him, stating his crippled status isn't one to move about too much. He then jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Jubilee said she's got it. What do you want?" So far, he's remained blameless and his smile shows innocence.

Pietro squints.

The girl is already on her feet, taking a request and money from Jean and Kurt. Her seat was at the very end near the walk aisle-way. Pietro huffs, sinking back into his seat.

Then, Scott points to the two women on Pietro's left. "Either of you lovely ladies want anything from concession?" He smiles. "It's on me."

Pietro glares out the corner of his eye. Scott's smile inches wider.

The brunette turns Scott down. Her friend, however, gladly takes the offer, and asks the brunette to pass the money down, knowing she would have to hand it to the man beside her which happens _very_ hesitantly. Jubilation takes order and hurries to the lobby.

On the large screen, a concession snacks woman day-dreams about being a movie star, an actress, dancing with an Elvis impersonator.

Jean sends Scott a look, motioning her chin to those further down, where the tension hasn't lessened.

This was much too amusing for him today.

He turns back to the two woman, slightly leaning over Pietro's lap to gain their attention. "I'm Scott," he waves, and then introduces the rest, Kurt eagerly speaking up for himself and extending a hand; Jean hurries to create an illusion that he has five fingers.

It turns out that the strawberry blonde is known as as Sherry, and the other is Rainy. Scott complements them about having pretty names.

Jean butts in then, two seats down, and compliments that she likes Sherry's teased red hair and Rainy's earrings, and then turns and asks, "don't you think so, Peter?"

There's a brief pause which is followed by a grumble of agreement. "I suppose so."

Scott notices that Rainy isn't fazed.

"Didn't you like the color green, Peter?" Sherry chides, indicating Rainy's jewelry. She doesn't receive an immediate answer; he grunts an approval. "What happened?"

"So," Scott begins, leaning on his knees, "do you guys know each other?" He motions between the two who seem the most reserved.

Neither spoke. Rainy bit her lip, beginning to nod. Pietro looks to his lap, hands balling into fists.

" _Actually_...we went to school together." Sherry was the one to answer, sounding chipper but eyeing the two _sternly_.

There were arching eyebrows in response. "Oh wow! For how long have you guys known...?"

"All four years," she answers. "We graduated not too long ago."

Both Jean and Scott's brows rise even more. They glance at Pietro who is beginning to grind his teeth, nervous, and vision sways, stomach twisting.

Scott points to both Rainy and Pietro. "Why don't you two—-?"

"Because—-" Pietro starts.

"It's not that easy," Rainy replies.

As if on cue, Jubilation returns with full arms of snacks, the lights dim, and the reel cuts and the movie resumes.

Rainy fidgets with her ring. Pietro slumps forward in his seat. Jean glances over, warily, at the two, the tension still spiking. Scott taps his finger impatiently on the armrest, waiting for the film's climax. Kurt is focused on the screen. Rainy glances over only once. Pietro slouches, spreads his legs, biting his lip, mind going miles a minute.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

* * *

 _If you've ever lost something important, you'd know what it was like when it's sudden found. There is that rush of exhilaration, of relief, and then probably of stupidity for losing it in the first place. Perhaps, there is a fresh start that emerges from this, as if rediscovering it for the first time. Sometimes it could feel nostalgic._

 _There is supposed to be a clever quote here_

 _But these two aren't as wise as one gives off and the other hides; these two aren't as wise as they are thick-headed._

"Why didn't you tell us you had _friends_?" Scott retorts. "They're pretty! And cool."

Sherry snickers at the spiteful look the boy receives. "You two don't get along, do you?"

"No, not really," Pietro beats him to the question, shaking his head with sarcasm, and answering with another turn of his nose.

"You don't get along with anyone?" Scott acclaims.

"That's—-! That's not entirely true... There's Kurt!"

The teleporter waves, an illusion of pale skin and blue eyes.

"Then why haven't you even _looked_ at your friend there?" Scott outstretches his arm to Rainy. She doesn't look too pleased at his gesture.

The movie had ended and all had gathered in the chairs somewhere else in the mall.

They're the type of people who put things off until the last minute. Who refuse to cooperate with set rules.

Arrogant, audacious, stubborn

They're too proud.

"Don't be a nosy parker, zipperhead. What you don't know can't end up hurting you."

Rainy looks at him directly for the first time. That had been something similar she had spoken before—something right before they last saw each other.

They had returned to the main area of the mall, seated at a large table near the food-court exit. Jubilation had taken an almost immediate liking to Sherry and the two had been engaging zestfully. Rainy on the other hand...

Sherry's red-stained lips pull into a grin, fingers under her chin. She and Jubilation's talk had ended and both were back involved. "Aw, c'mon Peter! No one told me you were going to become such a _grouch_." Sherry has been adding on the conversation and he was _a little_ convinced that she was in on the teasing alongside Scott.

"I'm not a grouch—-"

"Then prove it." Her face falls and her tone hardens. "It's been almost four years. That's a lot of time and things could have changed." She glances to Rainy who averts her gaze when he catches hers, and instead looks off to the side, propping her chin on a hand. "There has to be at least a little something that has changed."

There's a brief silence. Scott and Jean look confused.

Sherry turns to her friend beside her, smiling once more. "Rainy, remember when we were younger, and that time we all snuck into that hockey rink? There was that one guy I had been with...what's his name...?"

Rainy is stirring the ice cubes in her tall iced tea with a red straw. A tiny grin appears on her face at the memory. "Matthew Gregory," she answers, on point, mind a sharpen thumbtack. She bites the inside of her cheek to stop smiling.

"Yes!" And she sighs. "...I thought he was the best thing in the world... Remember that?" Sherry's cheek falls on her fist. She wasn't only indicating Matthew, and Rainy knew that, and her sharp eyes flicker over.

"He was a douche."

"He was a douche, indeed," Sherry smiles, her gaze flickering to the grey-haired one.

"All guys are douches," Jubilation agrees, earning laughs and faux hurt gestures from Scott and a appalled look from Kurt. "Well except you guys...I _guess_ ," she jokes.

"You couldn't skate for anything," Sherry laughs, indicating to Pietro. "Remember that?" she asks Rainy who nods slowly. But Jubilation and Scott are already making side remarks, asking if either of the girls could skate better—they couldn't—and how did they get inside the rink. Sherry tells them the story of course—of Pietro breaking the locks, Sherry giddy about this new beau of hers and how he had been the best skater out of them all, of how Rainy clenched Pietro's arm the entire time, how Pietro made them fall _at least_ twice, of ice burns, and how everyone freaked that they thought they were going to be caught when Rainy lost an earring.

Pietro raises his gaze shyly, timorously.

"So you've always been lame?" Scott teases the crippled mutant.

Jubilation smiles. "That sounds like a lot of fun!" With the idea planted, she and Kurt are eager to do the same.

Sherry rests a cheek on a hand, her other rubbing Rainy's back. "Yeah it was." She sounds almost nostalgic. "What happened?"

Rainy swallows from her drink. "Graduation. My f—-" She breaks off, for a brief moment, pain barely showing on her face. But she can't bring herself to look up and brings her straw to her mouth instead. "I moved out. Then college. And...you know." She takes a long drink from her iced tea.

Sherry turns. "I didn't mean that _literally_." She sighs, looks to Pietro. "Yeah...but what's _your_ excuse?"

He rubs his arm. "I—-I was busy. Doing stuff."

"Stealing?"

"And other stuff!" He sucks his teeth. Sherry raises a brow and he adds, "a little bit of school. Debating whether to try out for the Olympics. Hiding from the government." He shrugs. "Typical stuff."

Sherry's brows raise; Rainy's crinkle together. Shocked, Scott, Jean, and Jubilation speak that they didn't know that he had tried for the Olympics.

"I thought you were just some hoser!" Scott jokes.

And Pietro looks like he regrets mentioning it, like he wants to wring Scott by the collar.

Jean bumps his arm. " _Be nice_."

Both women chuckle. Kurt mentions that he's _never been skating, having been in a circus and all_ , and the gang erupts. Sherry asks why he had been in a circus but before he could say _mutant_ in "because most people don't take to the way I am, being a mutant," Jean butts in: "having a disease! He has this really, really... _rare_ disease that he couldn't find the right person to help him with until now..."

Sherry looks convinced. Rainy's eyes widen, quickly lifting from her straw, her drink sprinkling the top of her shirt. She looks to Jean, to the illusion of Kurt as a normal human, at Pietro. And he can see that she _knows_.

Pietro motions to his chin. "You have a little..." On instinct he raises his hand to reach across the table to wipe his thumb on the drop near the corner of her lip, but—but he doesn't, doesn't even get far, and instead slides a napkin across the table.

She mumbles a thanks.

He stays silent for a moment. "You're still wearing it...?"

She gains her usual phlegmatic demeanor, her eyes narrowing and striking. "What?"

He points. "That." It was a woven bracelet with three silver trinkets hanging from its loops. Only one trinket remains now. It used to be an ankle bracelet that broke and retied on her wrist some months ago.

She looks at her wrist, and doesn't speak. Neither of the two see Sherry whispering to the other four mutants.

Then, Sherry abruptly stands from the table. "Your school sounds pretty cool!" And turning to Rainy: "I just remembered, I forgot something important! I'm going to have to be right back."

"Wait! What is it? I can hel—" Rainy begins gathering her things, her bag.

"It's—-! It's-it's for _work_!" Sherry lies. "I'll try and be back."

Scott raises a finger, interrupting. "We can give you a ride home if you need," he asks Rainy

She objects stating that it wasn't necessary, but he's wearing that mischievous grin again, and Sherry speaks that it is a good idea.

"...And seeing as this is the longest you two've _ever_ talked, I'll try to be extra quick."

Pietro scoffs.

Sherry raises two fingers to her eyes and then back at them, the _I'm watching you_ hand motion. She walks over and leans in to Scott and Jean. "Don't let anything happen to my friend or you'll _wish_ you would be able to hide from me," she whispers.

And Scott is wearing the biggest, shit-eating smile. "Don't worry—about _us_ , at least."

Pietro receives a passing pat on the shoulder. "Be nice," Sherry says. Neither he nor Rainy know exactly which she is talking to.

But it made sense

Since it could go either way

Sherry leaves the mall two minutes later.

Rainy looks over briefly, gives a tiny one-shoulder shrug, _sorry about her_ form silently on her lips.

 _Me too._

Jean suggests a change of scenery would help clear the atmosphere and rid the awkward air that lingers. Everyone pulls their chairs back, agrees.

Scott pushes Pietro by the shoulder. It was meant to be a move of encouragement despite his devious grin, and makes the other skip a step instead. Rainy catches it—to his _extreme_ deplore; he catches his balance in time—and sends an apologetic look.

He pokes out his lip and puffs his cheeks, and she sees that they're gaining a sort of red hue.

There is slightly less tension now.

* * *

 ** _A/N: I_ might _post the next part in the next couple days, if you want? You have to let me know.  
_**

 ** _In response to some replies:_** _PLEASE don't feel timid or doubtful about reviews. Please don't feel that way because it makes my day TREMENDOUSLY to where I'm smiling like a maniac; and, like you know that they are practically the only source of encouragement to continue writing, it's a greatly appreciated way of receiving feedback and criticism that I greatly need and appreciate. Because I don't want the stuff I do post to be overdone and a regurgitated same old thing, and I know that no one wants to read that. Tell me what I'm doing wrong so I can fix it and never do it again. Like, I don't know what else to say, I do value and appreciate what everyone and anyone has to say._


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: You guys who review are awesome! By the way, this is the "climax" you could say. It was lengthy so here's the first half.**_

* * *

 _..._

* * *

Timeline 2

* * *

The clock reads eight-fourteen. The mall would be declining in capacity now, the joined movie theater would remain open for the next two hours. The small band of mutants plus-one have long left, have passed the arcade, a jewelry store, Kurt and Jubilation dawdling inside two clothes stores. Jean tried to make small talk and Scott humiliates the one in crutches again

They were long gone from the mall now, and occupying a small table outside a sandwich shop. There was a couple a few yards and tables down, a large, balding man in a stretched tank-top and a woman in heavy makeup smoking a cigarette. Jubilation and Kurt scrunch their noses at the rise of smoke.

Rainy takes another from from her tall paper cup of tea. She's managed to hold on to it to keep her hands busy; it's mostly melted ice now. "So, you all go to that private school because you all have _diseases_ too?" she speaks up suddenly, after Jean fails at creating an appealing topic about the types of sub sandwiches.

There is a chorus of agreement at her question. "Er...something like that."

Rainy smiles. "That's good. There should be places that can cater to certain people if the help is needed. Since we already have deaf schools, of the handicapped...having one for diseases is a grand improvement. That's exciting to hear," she spoke gladly, though there wasn't a hint of cheer on her face at all. She then points to Scott. "So you have—an eye issue? Bad cataract?"

He goes along with that suggestion.

Pietro rolls his eyes, grumbles.

Scott leans in, cupping an ear, still instigating. "What was that, man? I didn't quite hear you"

Now, the mutant had already been growing steadily pissed, having a broken leg, distinctly slower, and _so out of his familiar zone_ with his...his...um...with _her_.

What was this really?

Scott is far too close to Pietro when he practically yells in his ear. "She knows, dumbass!" The other jumps away, digging a finger in his ear, cursing. "She's not stupid," Pietro lowers his voice now.

Rainy loudly slurps the water from the melted ice cubes. The look she gives to Scott is more of indifference and deprecating than pity.

Jean's eyes widen, as well as Jubilation's and Kurt's. The redhead is the first to snap back. "You said you were in college, right? Are you still going?"

Rainy tells that she's finished her internship to shadow an attorney and was recently given a small job from it. She goes to the college here in New York; that the reason she and Sherry had come to the movies was from a personal reward. She asks if any of the others were considering higher education.

Jean shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe if I get control over my abilities enough in time." Scott gives a comment of encouragement, that Jean would in time. She continues, tone wary. "See, I'm telekinetic and telepathic. Scott here is laser eyes."

The teen's lips form the straight line of a dry smile. Jubilation and Kurt speak for themselves, the latter eager to point out his own, and Pietro's speed. They talk in praise and Rainy listens intently. She smiles, comments that their _gifts_ were fascinating, and turns down Kurt's question if she had any of her own.

"Nothing like that." Her curls are a dark, buoyant cloud around her shoulders. She crunches on an ice cube, swallows it. "I did know of a few who went to our school, though. There was this girl who could control her really long hair. This other who could make you feel any sort of way—but not a lot of people liked her. And there's Pietro's speed which is _really_ stunning, and apparently there's Wanda's contro—-" She doesn't say anything further, her bright eyes widening, her lips sucking in.

One of Jean's brows rise and Jubilation bites the inside of her cheek as both hold in grins. Pietro almost chokes, eyes the widest they've ever been. Kurt looks around, and Scott _still_ has that _knowing_ smirk in his eyes.

Everyone is staring at her, at Rainy who's gone frozen, lips clamped shut, until she lets out a fit of choked coughs.

"...um, Rainy...?" Jubilation rubs her back.

The woman blinks rapidly. When she speaks, her voice is filled with cotton and melancholic. "I just remembered—-excuse me, I have to go!" She hastily stands, and is seen rushing to the nearest restroom, fumbling in her purse, almost dropping it, sucking in a steadying breath of air.

The two remaining girls look at each other before dashing after, leaving the boys behind. Scott and Kurt share a look. The latter rests a hand on Pietro's shoulder as a sort of comfort, speaking that maybe Rainy was _just feeling overwhelmed and sudden or...was embarrassed, or..._ But the other is muttering under his breath and as soon as Kurt finishes what he has to say, Pietro's head rises and his look is wrathful.

His nose flares as his teeth grit. "No. It's not. This was a mistake, all of _this_ was a mistake. I should have _never_ listened to you all! I should've never left that mansion!" He snatches his crutch and does his best to stalk away.

Scott stretches out an arm. "Hold on, man—-" He cuts off because Kurt grabs him before he could rush off after Pietro.

"Just leave him be," he says, but Scott begins about going after him. Kurt shakes his head, knowing Scott was just going to drive the nail in further. "I think this is enough, Scott. Had your fun, but I think...this really isn't something we should meddle with." Kurt doesn't want any animosity between them all, and can see that quickly forming if this continues. "That's enough, yeah? Just leave him be."

Scott sighs. Kurt was probably right. He looks out after Pietro who has covered a remarkable amount of ground. And Scott shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels.

 _ **. . .  
**_ _ **. . .**_

Pietro's known to mope under upsetting circumstances. He distances himself and scares off anyone who tries to come near. He doesn't like to seem vulnerable; he doesn't want to appear vulnerable, and thus whenever he's done digging himself a hole, it takes twice as long to get out of it. Whenever he guts himself out in despair, he usually keeps to himself.

It's dark and he's tired and frustrated, plopping down at a random bench, his head falls against the metal behind his back, and—he isn't quite sure what to do. He hates everything about this situation—that he couldn't escape from the others, about the past returning that he has worked to forget, of the past that he's wanted to resurge, and the sheer _embarrassment_ of it all. The heal of his broken leg digs into a patch of dirt. He presses the palm of his hands to his face. Groaning, he thinks and can't quite remember _exactly_ what had happened the last time they spoke—he and Rainy. He knew for certain that there were ill feelings and words thrown, and something that they had a dispute over, something big—but he knows that he hadn't wanted to see her again, hadn't planned on it, thinking it would never happen again.

He drags his hands down his face. He doesn't know whether to roll with this or drop it and leave the destructive emotions and regret and grief suspending in the air.

 _Whether by fear or deja vu or relief_

What about closure?

 _ **. . .  
**_ _ **. . .**_

Rainy throws her bag on the cracked counter of the dingy, back-way restroom. Her breath is coming out deep and ragged, her hands clammy and nerves cold. She runs her hands through her hair and peers at the reflection. Her pulse is spasmodic, and she hasn't had these jitters, or felt this apprehensive within a long time.

Well, obviously.

But _still_ —

She doesn't like it.

It's too familiar.

She's mumbling to herself: "this is stupid. This is stupid, this is...idiotic, _absurd_ , _amateurish_." She retrieves and pulls off the cap of lip-balm. "...That conceited, overbearing, big-headed—-!" She throws it bag in her purse, slumps forward, her face falling into her hands, fingers racking back into her dark hair and gets tangled. She takes several deep, calming breaths before picking herself up and straightening her posture. And remembering Sherry, is filled with not exactly rage, but it's isn't exactly _not_ either, and begins digging through her purse for spare change.

Because then, she realizes that Sherry had this entire thing planned.

And Rainy wasn't taking to it very nicely.

That's when Jean and Jubilation push inside. Both girls seem concerned, commenting about Rainy's abrupt exit. Asking, "did something happen?" And, "was it something we said?" Or, "you seem upset, and—-"

Rainy is leaning into the mirror reapplying mascara she accidentally rubbed off. "Why do you continue with that act?." She looks to them in the mirror, caps the mascara wand. "Especially _you_ ," she meets Jean's eyes. "Because I _know_ that you either orchestrated the whole thing with my friend or you knew why. Don't think I don't know what is going on."

Jubilation looks to the redhead. Jean swallows. Both watch Rainy return to pulling out coins. She finds two nickels and drops them to the counter.

Jubilation is the one that speaks up. "What are you doing?"

Rainy is able to find three dollars and fifty cents in change. "Finding a darn phone." And she slugs her bag onto her shoulder, glances once at the girls as she approaches the door. "That's what. Thanks for ruining my night."

Both mutants are stunned. Jubilation hits Jean's arm, making her snap back. They run and stand in front of the closed door, trapping Rainy inside the restroom.

"Wait! Rainy, Wait!" Jean holds up her hands in innocence and the other's glare intensifies. "I _did_ know a _little_ bit about it, I admit it. But I don't know anything else. Like why you hate—- _do_ you really hate—-?"

"I hate him because he's an arrogant, kleptomatic, ass-headed coxcomb who has no regards for personal sentiment or space, and is a _coward_ who runs away from any form of commitment!" Her words seem to bounce off the walls of chipping paint, slicing the air in half vex and ruefulness.

It takes a moment for the girls to think of what to say.

Jean cocks her head to the side. " _Wow_. Well, while that is... _mostly_ true," she has to admit that Rainy really hit the head on the mark, "I don't think Peter is a coward. And I _do_ know that you don't mean that..." She slows as she sees Rainy's slacking composure, "...do you?" Rainy begins to object but Jean adds: "because I've seen people, and the way you two were, _doesn't_ say that either of you hate each other."

Rainy is missing a spot on her lipstick. One earring is unhooked. "Well that's because you don't know. You don't know the whole story and to be—-"

"I don't, but it wasn't that long ago, was it? And I can tell when two people were in—-"

" _No_ ," Rainy interrupts, denying the fact before it could be in the air. Stopping this from repeating, squashing expectation, denying its existence.

Jean corrects herself, clearing her throat. "When two people _care_ for each other." She can tell—knows—that the other is blatantly lying through her teeth.

The restroom grows silent. Eyes shift and there is an ambience of anxiety in the air that could be sliced with a knife.

The eldest squeezes the strap of her bag. "Are all of you this nosy?" she bites. "But then, I'm not _too_ surprised. You're improvising, thinking I'd actually believe that you know..."

"I only know about taking an opportunity when I see one. Don't you, if that means fixing mistakes? Have some type of closure?"

Rainy's eyes narrow. She didn't have anything else to say.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Any words to say, anything at all, I'd be overjoyed to hear. Thoughts, opinions, analysis? What do you think will happen? What do you want to happen,**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: And this is the second half.**_

* * *

 _..._

* * *

Timeline 2

* * *

Her watch reads nine twenty-seven at night. The watch—golden-band and diamond-encrusted—was something she kept when she lived with her parents, back when her father had been mayor of her hometown. Rainy yanks it off and chucks it in her bag—it wasn't the first time doing so.

By now, she knows that Sherry was almost, most certainly _not_ coming back. She wonders how she couldn't have seen that coming—

But then again, she _knew why_.

It's dark out. Streetlights leave warm pools of insipid yellow on the pavement. Cars roar on the highway some distance off, and there is a playground not too far. The table they previously occupied was empty except for Scott chewing on a plastic straw. The grubby couple tables down were gone too. Rainy finds her watch again: nine twenty-eight.

Her stomach knots and her head is in frustration.

She looks around for a payphone, doesn't see one, and notices that the lights in the sandwich shop are off and it is now closed.

She sighs.

How does she always get into situations like this? It's only ever been when...whenever she's in proximity...

This wasn't supposed to happen.

She takes off down the sidewalk. It isn't long until she meets one of the boys from the gang—the foreign student, she had been told—walking back in her direction. She calls out and asks Kurt if he has seen the nearest payphone. He thinks for a moment before directing her forward. He asks if he could walk with her, to which she shrugs.

There isn't much talking. He does most of it, though it was brittle small talk. They're together until he brings her to a payphone near a streetlight lining a parking lot.

"You know...if you and Peter would like some alone time to speak..."

"No." Her answer is firm and curt. She doesn't even look at Kurt as she thanks him for the directions and goes to pick up the phone receiver. "We've had enough talking. I'm sure he'd say so." She cradles the receiver between her cheek and shoulder, and begins sifting through coins in her hands.

"Ok..." Kurt digs a toe into the dirt. He watches Rainy insert three quarters, clear her throat. "Um, but you know, Peter is over there on the right, a payphone is here... It's up to you..." He points with his fingers to which Rainy is barely paying attention to.

And then he disappears in a puff of dark smoke. She does jump from it, but smooths her hair back as she hears the phone ringing in her hand and remembers. She stares at the receiver.

The streetlight above flickers.

Far off to her left beyond the parking lot, the top of a jungle gym and a slide and swing-set can be seen. She clenches the open top of her jacket as a breeze blows, and she remembers.

The payphone rings in her hand.

Sherry's voicemail answers.

 _ **. . .  
**_ _ **. . .**_

Suppose this is something you might call detrimental, destructive, self-deprecating? That gut wrenching feeling of relief when you finally find a long-misplaced expensive timepiece or rediscovered a past coping mechanism. Basically, something of importance. In this case, something known for a long time and had become so familiar that it might as well have been as important.

Begrudging, remorse, bliss, regret.  
Of something broken  
Something possessed, of something lost, forced to the back of the mind

WAYWARD

That feeling when you find something that had been lost for a long time. Everything falls back into place, like a cog in a mechanical system, it working again as if the piece had never been removed.

A piece of the past that has been forgotten, almost deliberately so. Something broken, something once cherished.

Some things are forgotten  
Some things are left unfinished

"Rainy?"

She has placed the phone back and looks up hearing her name. Pietro doesn't say anything more, and so she approaches.

He is leaning over his knees, one fist enclosed in his other hand, and there's a small wrinkle between his brows. He's been moping, she can tell—she's surprised at all that she can remember the signs.

"I..." He swallows, licks his lips, can't bring himself to speak much less _look_ at her.

She jiggles the bag on her shoulder. Her earrings shine in the light—she's wearing a hooped pair, he notices—as well as her glossed lips. A low, short chuckle sounds from her, making his head snap up.

"Familiar, right? It's almost like parks are our official meeting place." She's staring out at the empty playground fifteen yards away, a hand on her hip.

He notices and mutters, "yeah." He then takes that opportunity to steal a glance at her before him—she had cut off the bleached ends of her hair so now it is a single shade of dark brown, and it was in ringlets, and she's taller, of course.

He tries again. "Rain, I—-?"

She _humphs_ , still not looking at him. "I haven't heard that name in a century."

He bits his lip. "Look, I've been thinking..." His jaw hangs open, snaps close, hangs open again. He scratches his head. _How exactly does he go about this?_

 _This wasn't supposed to happen!_

She looks down to him then, and wonders if he's had caffeine lately.

"No that's not it." He sighs. "Sherry's right: what—-what happened...?" _To us_ , he doesn't say but she already knows, it's practically spelling out in the air.

She arches a brow. "Well, like I had said earlier: life. We moved, got accepted into coll—-"

"That's not what I meant and you know that." He's frowning now but not angered. "See I don't really... I know we had an argument, we were both really pissed, I think, and it had something to do with your old man again—but I can't..." He shakes his head.

Rainy's stare was deadening, and she folds her arms. "Do you really want to remember what happened?" He didn't reply _verbally,_ and so she continues, words like a knife. "We _did_ argue, really badly. You felt like I was taking advantage of you; I felt like you weren't committed. And my embarrassment of a father _had_ been involved, and I had to lie to him to keep him from finding out about you—do you remember that?"

He's staring with wide eyes, her venting like an over-pouring rush. He watches her true emotions become apparent, going from anger to reflecting and then her face relaxes, her brows raise and her eyes squint and voice grows unsteady.

"And I had told him that I didn't like you and that I wasn't going to see you again, and that you're—-" She cuts off, biting her words, biting her lip. Her tone is soft now. "We were stubborn and stupid. And then there was that friend of yours..."

He is looking at the ground and nods. He can barely see his sneakers in the shadow of the painted bench. His crutch is leaning against the side of the seat. "Yeah, I remember."

A breeze blows and Pietro rubs his arms, wishing he had brought a sweater.

There's a minute of silence. Neither can look at each other and are finding their surrounding much more interesting. A minivan zooms past on the highway, the windows down and a baby's wail drifting on the wind. Three more vehicles follow.

Rainy has her arms around her waist, and is relieved that he isn't looking because that way she felt more comfortable taking the empty space at the other end of the bench. And when she does, she can see him tense in the dim lighting.

She turns to the other. "I was stubborn and stupid. And scared." She pauses, tone softening, almost repenting. "None of that is true, though. What I had said back then. It never was and...I wish I could have told you sooner." There's a pigeon that flies close, and a family that walks by to pile into a truck.

He nods again, doesn't reply. She sees he's contemplating, turning her words over in his head. She fears he doesn't believe her. Asking so, there's another beat of silence that passes first.

He stretches an arm along the back of the bench. "You know... Back then, I had tried to come and talk to you about it all because—-I couldn't just..." He waves his hands exasperatedly. "I tried and asked if you were there but your folks had said that you had _moved_ , and..." His brows furrow; he gives a dry bark of laughter. "I had come with flowers and everything and—- _god_ I felt so _stupid_!"

Now, she's studying his features, him covering his face with his other hand, neck leaning back. She's turned fully toward him. "You really did that...?"

Pietro slides his hand down, peers at her through the space between his fingers. "It's corny, I know. And that flowers are _detesting_. Cheesy." She didn't like them, he remembers. "I don't go around doing that anymore though! I learned my lesson!"

He's laughing at himself, and all she can do is stare in awe. She raises a knee to the seat, turning more. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugs. "I didn't know where you had went. And," he sighs, "I wasn't really _sure if_ you wanted to hear from me again, um..."

"Why would you think that?" And he shrugs again, so she adds: "I wouldn't invest myself in someone for years and break off with them, even so distastefully so. I told you if I planned to break up with someone, they would know. I don't get involved with weaklings and moronic mongrels." Her head tilts as she talks, her elbow resting on the back of the bench and her fingers fidgeting again.

He smirks behind his hand. "I know."

"And that I've never _actually_ broken up with someone..."

"I know..."

More silence. The blow of the night breeze, the chorus of bugs in the distance sing louder. A swing on the playground creaks as it moves in the wind too far to hear.

A pregnant pause passes between the two that feels to stretch the seconds into minutes. When Rainy inhales minutes later, it's very tremulous. "The night I left...it was the worst thing that happened...that way, and it—-" She breaks off with a bark of forced laughter, ignoring the look of complete shock he wears. "I don't know. I wish...I just should have _done something_." She looks down at her own entwined knuckles, heaves a deep sigh. "I should have never let my father do that. I should have just told him, huh? Said something _right_." She balls her hands into fists.

Pietro taps her closest hand with a pinkie. Once, twice, curls on top of the back of her hand. There's an apology in the air but it doesn't need to be spoken to be understood. She waits for him to curl his finger around on of hers like he used to; instead he doesn't.

 _"_ Maybe not _now_. And you didn't know. It was dumb—-"

She forces a chuckle. "We all were very dumb."

He agrees. And there's a small smile on his face, a tiny show of dimples she hasn't seen in years appear. "But that was the fun of it, wasn't it? Don't take it so hard, yeah?"

"But it had been—-"

"Please, Rainbow? Can we just leave it in the past? It happened, it's over..."

Her nose scrunches up. She knows that he is one of _the_ _last_ people to speak, knowing he can stay mad at a matter for days, weeks. She spits, "hypocrite."

He winks.

An ambulance zooms by. Two police cars fly going the opposite direction.

"Well," he squints at her, the reflection from her earring catching in the streetlight, and she's faintly _glowing_ in the faint light, "about what you said earlier...you still think my power's _amazing_?" He's cooing, brows waggling, egging her.

He's starting on an ego trip

She raises a dark brow, agrees, and mirrors his smile then.

"What about the jacket? My silver jacket?" _  
_

 _Oh god!_

"Do you still have that?!"

Behind columns of a building nearby, Jean, Scott, Kurt, and Jubilation hide in the shadows, trying to eavesdrop. Every once in a while, someone would dart their neck out to look, but the two were still at the bench—someone laughed, they're talking, then complete silence. Scott and Jubilation would hiss, asking what the two were saying. Jean could totally hear but kept her mouth closed. She enjoyed seeing Scott squirm with anxious. She holds in a smile when he repeatedly asks for commentary and she shushes him instead.

Her teeth rub away some of her rosy lipstick. _It was working!_

Rainy is smiling. Pietro bites his lip to hold in another emotion. No one speaks.

Jean peeks from behind the column, raising two fingers to her temple to listen.

Pietro rubs his thumb across his knuckles. His eyes return to the ground. "Look, I am in...I _was_... Rain, I'm... What I'm trying to get at—-" _  
_

 _How long has it been?_

She's watching his mouth. He stumbles over his words, stops, says that he's messed up again. She watches him try once more now, paying extra attention to speak _slowly_. And she bits at her applied lipstick to hold in a smile.

He says her name, her full name for the first time in years (it's weird and tastes so nostalgic), and is speaking about the past again—and she doesn't want to hear that, doesn't want to go through that again, to relive negativity—and he's about to say _something_ about now or what should have been or happened, sorrow or self-detesting.

He always does this

"What about leaving it in the past?" She smiles but can feel that it doesn't quite reach her voice.

And when they look back up, it's like the world pauses again. She finds that air is difficult and ration is nonexistent.

"Rain, I'm—-I..."

She shakes her head, smiling at the seat. For once he isn't impatient and needing to speed away. "We can't go down that road again," she shakes her head. "It's been years and I know we shouldn't. And I'll do all in my power to keep this from happening again."

His mouth snaps shut and forms a strained, straight line. Gazes still cast down, she takes his hands in hers, her thumb rubbing along the top of his, vein-y and feeling the remnants of a healed scar. She sighs. The last time anything like this has happened was years ago—and the thought both surprised and frightened her.

The streetlight above the payphone flickered off for a second.

Behind the columns, he gang covered each other's mouths watching from far off and in the darkness. Jean smacked both hands over her own open mouth when Pietro raises Rainy's hands to the air.

The brunette watches with barely concealed astonishment as he kisses the back of her hand and speaks low, something in his mother tongue.

 _How long has it been?  
_ _The last time this had happened was years ago_

 _"I'll prove that anyone can be some 'gentleman.' ...That's the last time you'll see_ that _!"_

She's dizzy and allured, and decides to not ask for a translation. Instead, she gulps. "...So this is goodbye then...?"

He sighs, remembering the difference in hand sizes. "Yeah." He squeezes his hands around hers.

Jean is grinning like a Cheshire Cat behind the pillar column. She smacks at Scott when he whispers again for details.

And there's something about the dense nebulous haze that clouds rationing then, and the dim muted-yellow glow of the car lights and street lampposts that make it jarring when Sherry's car pulls up in the nearby parking lot. But it's dark and at first glance neither can tell. Neither notice.

He swallows. "Um..."

"...Yeah," she breaths.

And it comes so... _naturally_ , so well versed and melodiously—so _accustomed_. The air sucks in through her nose as both fall forward and just press and _mesh_ and _mold_ , and each thinks the other is so warm and _too_ reminiscent, and hopes that the world ends right then and there. It's bitter and nicotine-black and sanguine. And it tastes tart, of virescent guilt and acidic despondence that pierces her chest like a needle.

There's a moment of pause, hesitation—she can practically feel the ghost of the wisps of his hair between her fingers and the memory of his hands sliding to the back of her neck—her lashes flutter against her cheeks, not quite open, not quite wanting to miss another moment.

There's a chill when they pull away, a bittersweet, acerbic tang that leaves a sardonic red aftertaste, and separate with slight suction. There is residue of her lipstick smeared and smudged that will be wiped from existence later.

It had only lasted two quick semi-seconds.

The car lights are still on in the parking lot, both notice now. Rainy is almost certain that it was Sherry and that she was watching now.

Their noses are still angled side by side and he can taste her breath on his tongue. "I gotta go now," she doesn't speak above a soft whisper.

He speaks that he knows. He's still holding her hands so tight.

And for a moment, neither wants to move, to let go

 _It was all just too late._

In one fluid movement Rainy quickly slides forward, pulls the strap of her bag up her shoulder as she stands from the bench and wipes at an eye as she begins walking away and toward the parking lot. It was such a quick movement that she was sure that no one had seen, that no one will know the drop of liquid residue drying on her fingers.

He holds on to one hand, it slipping away with the tiniest brush as she walks.

"Maybe we'll see each other again? You know, before I get _white hair_ this time," he jokes as she slips away. "Hey, what does auditioning for an acting role and playing sports have in common? If you break a leg, you actually get _cast_ ," he calls after her. It's stupid, and corny, and _terribly_ thought out—

And she laughs.

Her shoes crunch across the grass, and then click lightly along the pavement.

And she doesn't look back.

The vehicle is too far to see her clearly, so Pietro watches as she slides into the passenger seat, waits as the engine starts, and it back up before turning and crawling to the road. He sits and watches with not quite a smile, and not quite a grimace. When the car finally disappears, he leans forward, releasing a long breath, and presses his knuckles to his mouth.

* * *

The others give him a few more minutes to be alone—three exactly, because Jean and Scott are nosy and impatient and rush over before Pietro can put two and two together about their sudden appearance. And when he does...

Pietro jumps when Scott clamps a hand on the other's shoulder. Scott isn't quite smirking, and it's half-filled with pity.

Pietro raises a brow. "What the hell do _you_ want?"

Jubilee hangs down the top of the bench to his right. " _Sooo~_ How long have you "known" _Rainy_?" She makes air quotes around _known_.

"What'd she say, dude?" Scott smacks the other. "You fooled me when you said you were just friends!"

"What's you guy's history?"

"What was that all about? Why'd you let her go again?"

"Why're you being such a lame-o? You can't even _play_ like you are?"

"Well, _I'm_ still surprised that—-"

Pietro's arm is shaken again.

When he puts two and two together about their sudden appearance, he has a look like he wants to strangle them all.

Scott asks more questions. Jean leans over his shoulder and speaks that she's had her speculations. Kurt is just watching silently, tail weaving side to side.

"C'mon, Peter!"

"Rainy was actually pretty cool, but—-"

"I can't believe how _lame_ this is—-"

Jean grabs his side and shakes him, his head bobbing side to side. Pietro stares off with a look of murder. He wonders how much trouble he could get in by moderate or attempted strangling.

* * *

 ** _A/N: I'm not very good at writing jokes, I'm sorry. And there's planned to be two more chapters. Two more because this one got out ouf control._**


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: I had an essay to do and that's why this chapter is late. I've made this a bit longer to hopefully make up for it.**_

* * *

 _..._

* * *

Timeline 2

* * *

Sherry Addams drives a little, cadmium green convertible given during her final year in high school. It was a gift given by her parents—and it was the only gift she received that year—and she's treats it like a cherished possession, like _her baby_. She's named it Abbie.

Sherry fingers curve around Abbie's steering wheel in a binding grip. The radio is playing Madonna's new hit single on low volume, and she's still in that black halter top from earlier. Her hazel eyes flicker from the road, swiftly to her friend in the passenger seat, back on the road, and again to her friend a minute later...

There's still the presence of questioning in the air. It's been over ten minutes and Rainy still hasn't said a word.

Sherry reaches over and switches off the radio as the car pulls up to a stoplight; Rainy doesn't move.

Sherry sighs, bumping her hands against the steering wheel. "We _need_ to talk." She looks to her friend, doesn't even receive a glance for an answer, and pokes out her lips. She presses her foot to the gas and then the break suddenly, purposely jerking the car forward.

Rainy whiplashes forward and hisses, holding her head. "Ahh! Ok! _God_!"

"Oh, so _now_ you can talk?" Sherry's lips smack as she smooths the pink gloss there around.

"I heard you before," Rainy mumbles. _Was Sherry trying to break her neck?_

"You _need_ to explain to me _what_ was all _that_ back there." Sherry's wrist flicks. She's wearing a watch on one hand, a bracelet given to her by her current beau on the other—he was much better than the last, so Rainy partially approved.

"Explain what?"

The strawberry blonde's eyes are wide and her mouth is hanging open. "Explain what _the heck_ was _that_ back there?!" Her voice strains, trying not to yell in the small car space.

Rainy doesn't have an answer, and looks back out the window instead.

The traffic light turns green. Before gassing, Sherry jerks the car forward again.

Rainy curses. The car is put into drive.

"What's going on, Rainy? I leave for _one hour_ and..." Sherry shakes her head. Her pink-painted nails are drumming against the leather of the steering wheel. "I need an explanation." Her index finger is tapping now, impatiently, concerned. She steals another glance.

Rainy is glaring at her from the side. "Well first, it was far more than an hour that you were gone—-"

"That's not what I meant, Rainy, and you know that!"

The brunette huffs.

The car that had been behind them at the traffic light speeds past, the driver glaring through the window. Sherry holds up her middle finger.

She glances at Rainy once more. "What the hell do you think you were doing? I didn't think you'd go and do _that_. I thought you didn't feel anything for him anymore, Rainy. ...But I guess you lied? Can't say I'm _surprised_ , though." And she earns a hard look at that. "Oh, don't give me that look again!"

Earlier when Rainy first entered the passenger seat of the car, Sherry had asked if she was sure if she wanted to do this, if she wanted to make this decision for the second time and disappear. Rainy had given her the same hardened _no questions_ look before the car pulled onto the road.

Rainy leans her cheek onto a fist propped against the car window. "You're overreacting."

Sherry scoffs. "Oh, _I'm_ overreacting!?"

And Rainy doesn't respond, and Sherry is growing heated. She turns on the signal blinkers and takes a sharp left, turning off the course to home, and Rainy slides in her seat again. She scrambles to grip the dashboard, the door handle grip.

The brunette raises her head and brow slightly. "What are you doing?" Her tone is mostly steady, and Sherry wonders how she can be so _calm_ right now.

"Oh hush!"

They drive past a McDonald's, a burrito shack, a gas station, a Krispy Kremes and Sherry wonders aloud if they should stop for food. They speed through two more traffic lights; Sherry steals another glance at her silent friend who is gazing out the window again.

She sighs. "Answer me this, Rainy, because you aren't making any sense—and you better not play dumb with me either, okay? Why did you do that? Better yet, why do you keep doing this to yourself?" She pauses, but the other still isn't speaking. Sherry sighs. "Don't think I didn't see you two kiss. I arrived just in time! What the hell Rainy?" She's speeding now and comes to an abrupt stop at another traffic light, both slightly jerking behind their seat-belts. Sherry's neck snaps to her friend and her hands are waving expressively. "You said that you didn't want anything to do with him again—and that alone was—-was—-it didn't make sense! It was all so _sudden_ , and—-"

The other still isn't talking. But she's biting her lip again.

The light changes to green. _GO_.

Sherry mumbles to herself for the rest of the drive until they make a U-turn to pull up to a Krispy Kremes Donuts. And they still don't talk as they make two orders: Sherry gets three regular glazed while Rainy orders and entire dozen of chocolate covered, and ignores the look Sherry gives when she begins eating them as they walk out the door.

When Sherry first pulled up into that parking lot back to pick her up, she watched Rainy walk to the car through the rear view mirror. Since, the girl hasn't spoken, and Sherry didn't reveal that she had seen the mutant watching the car from a bench as they drove off and down the road. It all left a twisted, unsettling feeling in her gut.

As they drive home, Sherry looks over and sees the streetlights and night signs reflecting through the window glass and against the silhouette of her friend. And she sighs because she knows Rainy, knows how stubborn she can be, and that she wouldn't speak unless she absolutely _had_ to. (And here was one of the worst times.) Sherry shuts her mouth and pulls into the left lane.

 _ **. . .  
**_ _ **. . .**_

The two share a two-bedroom apartment on the fourth floor, thirty three miles from campus, and two from the closest cheap liquor store. There still hadn't been much talking since pulling into the resident parking garage, and Sherry hadn't pressed the matter further—because they had been in public, but _now_ they were in their confined four walls.

Sherry locks the front door as Rainy goes into the kitchen to place her leftover donuts in the refrigerator. But when she rounds the corner to return, Sherry is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and she is practically _glaring_ at Rainy as she straightens and takes a step forward and asks the other to _not move_.

Rainy stands on guard, suddenly alarmed.

"How long have we been friends, Rainy?" Sherry asks calmly, and there's a seriousness there that the other can't remember ever having been before.

Rainy says that she doesn't know, guesses nine years.

Sherry asks how the other felt about their living situation together; and Rainy responds that it was a pleasantly arranged agreement. Then Sherry asks about trust.

"Yes, I trust you, Sherry." She's wary. "Why?"

"Then why won't you just _tell me_?!" Her hands flail, a cry in desperation.

Rainy sighs and rolls her eyes.

"And don't roll your eyes at me!" Sherry's finger points, falls. She inhales and starts up again. "Do you love him?"

And Rainy is silent; her chest puffs as if she is about to speak something. Her eyes narrow instead. " _What_ —-?!"

"It's ok if you do, you know. You two were really close."

Silence.

"Ok... What really happened between you two, then?"

The other folds her arms, is looking back towards the kitchen, wanting to ignore that this is happening.

"He still loves you, you know? I can see it in your eyes." And Rainy _glares_ but Sherry continues. "Don't act like you don't either. You don't kiss someone like that and then say that you don't feel _anything_."

Rainy isn't even looking at a set point anymore, her gaze fallen. Sherry can see from across the room that she isn't really focused on the carpet in particular, and there's a daunting glaze over her eyes. She isn't exactly frowning anymore either, and is more grimacing.

"I'm just confused. Because...because I don't want to see you hurt again..."

This time Rainy shakes her head. "I'm not the one hurt..." It was spoken in a low mumble that Sherry only heard pieces of. Rainy's knuckle flies to her mouth and she presses it against her teeth, her expression falling. She shuts her eyes for one moment.

"Rainy... What really happened? You've never really spoken about it." Sherry makes her way to the sofa behind her friend and sits. She sees that the other's eyes are still shut, knuckles still pressing to her lips, and elbow resting on an arm hugging her waist.

"There's nothing to speak about. It happened in the past. It's over."

Sherry looks concerned, her brows rising and pushing together. "You can't think that's true...?" Silence. "...Rainy..."

She shakes her head. "I can't tell." She sighs. Rainy drops her hands and her gaze focuses on the front door.

"Why not?"

"Because—-" She can't flat out say because Sherry was a chatterbox, because Sherry rambles and information tends to leak through her teeth; because while Sherry's a great and adoring friend, she just _can't_ keep secret well enough. "-—it's classified. Classified information."

Sherry's face falls. "Ohhh..." She cradles her chin in her hands, elbows propped up on her knees. "Does it have to do with... _with the bedroom_? Was the sex _that_ bad?" She grimaces, and then grins when she's given a startled look.

"What, _no_!" She sees Sherry's raising brows and catches herself too late. "I mean—-I didn't mean that. That isn't what I meant..."

Sherry frowns. "Did he have low stamina?" Rainy opens her mouth to interject but Sherry's eyes widen and she's already blurting out strings of accusations. "Was he _small_? You remember that guy I had been with who was tiny? Was it like that; I can give you some pointers." She's trying to guess because Rainy's visibly tense and awkward, and Sherry's close to finding out, she can _feel_ it. "Oh! Did he have some weird kink you weren't fully with?" She watches her friend fidget, run a hand through her hair, gets tangled around the curls. "You guys must've _done it_ a lot, didn't you?" Sherry's eyes are scrutinizing.

"Wh-what—-Sherry! That's not what I meant!"

She shrugs. "I mean if you did, I'm not going to judge. You guys were pretty serious, I remember. I wouldn't be surprised, even though _you wouldn't tell me_!"

Rainy's jaw opens and closes twice before she strings together a comprehensible sentence again. "No, we—-we didn't—-it's not like that—-"

"Was he two-timing then? ...Did he have whiskey dick?!" Sherry grimaces again; there's a smile forcing its way through. "Because I remember this one time—-!"

" _Sherry_!"

She raises her hands in defense. "I'm just asking for a friend... _as_ a friend."

Rainy pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue. "It's not like that, none of it was. All I can say is that we had a heated argument that had lasted several days before I moved."

The other is silent now, and listening, honestly trying to decipher her friend's vagueness. "What were you two arguing about back then?"

"It's...it's not for me to say. And I can't betray him like that."

This time Sherry only nods. There's another brief silence, maybe lasting a minute or two.

"Well, this means I can't help you."

Rainy already knows.

She looks in the direction of their small kitchen, and those leftover donuts were sounding like a good idea right now.

The small living room is empty the following ten minutes. In thirteen more, all the lights in the apartment floor were off.

Sherry was sure that she wouldn't be able to help this situation, but she knew someone who could. And the next day, goes scrambling in her safe, in boxes of keepsakes and little memorabilia. There's a small black address-book she used to keep that had countless phone numbers of people she'll most likely never see again. Inside that little black book was a number to the only person she thought of that could possibly, likely help. If only she could find that number...

 _ **. . .  
. . .**_

Sherry waits two days until she calls for reinforcements. It just so happens that two days later she finds that little address book with the long-unused number still scribbled inside in another's handwriting. And it's Sunday when she calls, her cover being that she's gone out to the gym to take a class with that cute yoga instructor again. Rainy had waived from the sofa, a small tub of ice-cream in her lap and hair in a bun.

She had asked if Rainy was feeling alright. Still pretty deadpan and stolid, the other waves her off, stating that Sherry would be late for the class if she dawdles any longer.

Sherry calls the Maximoff's residence from a payphone. She has to pay extra for long distance.

She doesn't remember if the twins' mother had been particularly religious, so she hopes that the phone would be answered on the first try. Sherry only has enough change for two more calls and she was squeezing her eyes tight and crossing her fingers.

She almost laughs in relief when the phone is picked up.

A much younger voice answers instead. "Who is it?"

Sherry stalls, levels back on the ground from the balls of her toes. "Um..." She bends the metal phone cord in one hand. "Is this still the Maximoff's residence?"

The receiving voice snides—it's younger, feminine. "Who's asking?"

And Sherry tells that she's an old friend, that she used to talk to someone named Peter and Wanda who lived there. She tells her name, that she was looking for Wanda.

"What are you talking about? Wanda doesn't have any friends—-" The girl cuts off, and Sherry can hear the speaker being calling by someone in the distance. A moment later, the phone rustles and an adult woman answers.

"Who is this?"

Sherry breaths. "Mrs. Maximoff? Marya Maximoff?" She's answered by repeated _who is this?_ So, Sherry gives her name again, tells that she knew Marya's children along with another friend of hers. She practically sighs into the phone when Marya coos in remembrance.

"Sherry? How've you been, sweetheart!"

In oppose of the twins who might hold some resentment toward both girls because of the past—Sherry by association—Marya saw through the teenage enmity and ruled it out as immaturity, to time and experience. Marya hadn't hated either girls but was aware of what had happened.

Sherry bends the thick metal phone cord. She smiles into the phone and answers Marya, but tells that she didn't have much time. She tells that she needs to speak to Wanda— _"Wanda doesn't live here anymore"_ and _"why?"_ —she tells that a recurrence from the past has risen, that she was trying to prevent the past from repeating; but Sherry tells it point blank and blunt because she is unlike Rainy and doesn't beat around the bush.

"Oh!" Marya is heard scrambling around for something. The younger voice—her daughter most likely, much older now—grumbles and asks what her mother is doing. Sherry hears Marya order her daughter to lend her pencil, to which the girl groans. "Sherry? Hello? Actually you just missed Wanda. She stepped out for now to the store. You know she's back from college? Oh! Tell me, how is university?"

Sherry grins, tells that Rainy is the one going to an actual university. But then she also trails off subject and rambles on about the traffic surrounding their area, the small apartment they share, and the kind grocery store employees. There's an old woman who Sherry likes talking to. And that there's a little gym nearby that has memberships, and that the people aren't _too_ rude but it's been undisturbed and boisterous and different. "It's good though," she answers. Sherry doesn't realize she's rambled, but when she does, she mentally counts down the seconds until she would have to repay her toll. "Can you give Wanda a message, please? From me?"

Marya told that she already has a pen and paper ready.

Sherry asks Marya to tell Wanda to call her brother. He's in a leg cast and he wasn't doing so well—to which Marya immediately starts asking questions, as expected. Sherry only told that she couldn't say and that she doesn't know. By Marya's pause, she figures that the woman already has her suspicions. Sherry gives her phone number to the woman and then ends the call.

Her hand lingers on the phone for a few seconds longer. Reflecting, she could feel a maelstrom of oncoming approaching.

She removes the hair-tie from her wrist and ties her red hair up in a ponytail before taking off at a light jog. Rainy was right, and Sherry wonders if she would still be allowed inside late for that yoga class. That twisty, premonition grind in her stomach worsened.

 _ **. . .  
. . .**_

Exactly five hours later, their apartment landline rings.

When Sherry returned, Rainy had drifted off to sleep on the sofa, cheek cradled in a propped arm on the couch armrest and the television playing some movie. Sherry had to pry the tub of mostly-eaten melting tub of icecream from Rainy's fingers to return it to the freezer.

The corded phone rings just as Sherry is finishing a shower. She hears Rainy groaning on the sofa as she awakes, and makes a dive for the telephone in her underwear, catching it on its last ring.

"Addams residence," she breaths into the phone, trying not to pant.

A lone voice on the other end asks plainly: "Sherry? Sherry Addams?"

The strawberry blonde nods, and verbally validates. On the sofa, Rainy is sitting up slowly, her brown hair misshaped, and she rubs her eyes, looks around for the tub of icecream, and then up at Sherry leaning against the counter in her underwear. Sherry waves innocently.

"This is Wanda. You gave a message to call you now, after five years?" The acidity in her voice isn't masked at all. "I was told to call you back? I hope this is good."

"Erk... Yeah, um, how've you been, Wanda?"

"My shoe heel snapped and I broke a nail fighting with some lady at Kroger over _a melon_ she thought _I_ stole. Now I have to wear a bandage over my finger. I'm doing well; how about you?"

"Oh, ok...!" Sherry pressed her lips together, stressing. "Um..."

"What was your message...some-something _important_ to tell me?" Wanda sounds tired through the speaker; she's squeezing the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. She indeed holds a bit of resentment toward the two girls but that was overruled by her aunt Marya—technically, her aunt—bombarded her as soon as she returned with what groceries she had managed. "It was something about my idiot brother...?"

"Ah, yes." Sherry rolls her neck to see Rainy walking past, into the bathroom. She waits until the lock clicks to answer. "I need your help with an issue. A very... _stubborn_ issue."

"Sherry, listen..." Wanda sounded on a very short fuse—not like that was really a difference. "I don't know why you called me, but I'm not going to—-"

"Look," she interrupted, tone dropping from cheery and loosen to stony. Inside the bathroom, she hears Rainy turn on the sink faucet. "I know we had our differences, and you can hate me and Rainy for however you want, but you're the only one I could think of to call."

"You called Marya."

"I don't go to my parents when I meet a guy who's package doesn't match the advertisement either, do I? That doesn't matter, Wanda."

Touché.

"What is it then," Wanda asked, still remaining very short.

"We met your brother a couple days ago when we went to the movies."

"What do you mean _we_?"

"Me and Rainy. Do you remember her? We used to all go to school together."

There's an intake of breath, a drawn out sigh. "Yes, I do. I remember her."

Sherry's first reaction was to ask what the sighing had meant, but thought it best not to. "Well it turns out that he's staying here, at least presently. And..." She glances to the bathroom door, hearing the sink water turn off. "And I need _your_ help to get them back together."

At first, there is silence. Then, Sherry was worried that Wanda had walked away, then if the phone had disconnected.

"Hello?"

"Sherry, I really don't think that's a good idea."

Sherry gapes. "Wh-well why not? Come on, please, Wanda? You know as well as I do how it had—-"

"Yes, I do remember. And I remember what had happened after Rainy left, and that's why I'm saying that I don't think this is a good idea. Remember, I was on the other end of this as well. And I don't think that this is best for Peter."

Sherry sucks in her lips, thinks about her words before speaking. "You never liked Rainy," she accuses, "have you?"

Now, Wanda sounds shocked. "That's—-that's not it! Maybe it's _you_ who needs to remember back then." Sherry huffs and Wanda continues. "Now, why would I help with that? Peter was hurt once already when they broke up. I'm not going to repeat that."

At that moment, Rainy emerges from the bathroom. Her face is moist from splashing it with cold water.

"Well I'm not sure if that had really happened..." Then when Wanda asks for clarification, Sherry tells that the night they crossed paths, when Sherry returned from an "errand," the two had been on a bench sucking face—to which Rainy comes stalking back in the room, demanding who was on the phone. Sherry ignores her, turns away.

And this reveal spurred another minute of silence by the mutant.

"Well..."

" _Well_ yes, right? Wanda, _pleeease_!"

"Ummm...I don't know..."

"Look, Wanda, Rainy's been a _mess_ since! And I bet Peter's the same!" And Wanda could make out the faintest _"no I'm not!"_ and _"Why're you talking about Peter? Who is that?"_ in the background. Sherry adds, "she's falling asleep holding tubs of ice-cream in front of romance movies! And you should've seen the way he was looking at her when she left! You _know_ he loves her; you know as much as I do, don't you?"

Another pause. A sigh. "Yeah...ok..."

Rainy watches from the side as a smile slowly creeps across Sherry's face until it's crinkling her eyelids. She murmurs a thanks into the phone and a "you're the best!" Rainy watches her pause, tilt her head to the side, "uh huh..." And Sherry turns toward the brunette.

"Hey Rainy, I'm talking to our good friend Wanda."

The strawberry blonde watches as the girl goes stiff, her expression changing before hardening. Sherry tilts her head as Wanda speaks. She can tell that Rainy is about to blurt blasphemy. "And stop being in denial!" she snaps, and Rainy frowns. Sherry listens as Wanda speaks across the phone line, and then Sherry hands the over phone. "She wants to talk to you."

Rainy is reluctant— _very_ reluctant—to take it at first, but Sherry practically _shoves_ it in her hands and walks off with an innocent smile, telling that she's to get dressed. Rainy's nervous when she lifts the phone to her ear. "Wanda?"

"Rainy?" She pauses as she she's answered yes. "Sherry told me everything," she tells, and Rainy's eyes close, her pulse speeding. Then, "is all that true?"

Rainy wants to hang up, to cut this off and go back to oblivion, to forgetting. "Yes." Her tone is low, dispirited.

"Do you...is it true that you were kissing Pietro?" And the other goes _stiff_ and hesitates. Then, "oh." And Rainy knows that _she_ knows. "So you did. ...Do you...still love him?"

And the first thing that comes out of her mouth is denial. She's blabbering again like back in that dingy restroom with Jean and Jubilation—then Wanda cuts her off.

"I need to know the truth, Rainy! If you don't, then say so and we'll be done with all this. But if you do...Rainy, I have to trust you again. Because the last time you broke his heart. You broke his heart and he was in a wreck and you left out of _nowhere._ And you know it was Marya and me who had to pick up the pieces." She speaks quickly, the admission tumbling from her lips quicker than she could stop it.

Rainy is silent, awestruck. She debates. "I..." She inhales, bites her lip. "I...I'm..."

"So I need to know. Rainy, you need to tell the truth for once or you'll be wasting everyone's time."

And there's another silence. Then an extensive nasal inhale. "I... _Yes_." Her voice is firm, short—a mask of faux boldness.

"Ok..." The relief in Wanda's voice was nearly audible. "Now what really happened between you two?"

"Why're you asking me?"

"Because your view is less biased, and you have a perfect memory."

Well this was true...

Sherry would finish dressing soon. Rainy clutches the phone and its cord, her heart racing now. "It...I couldn't tell Sherry, that's why she called you, you know." Wanda answers that she figured, and: "it was because we argued. We disagreed on some stuff and...and I had said some things that I didn't mean but—-! ...I was only trying to protect him and didn't mean to.."

On her side, Wanda cradles the off-white corded phone between her ear and left shoulder. Her hair is up and she has one toe-polished foot resting on the short wooden table. "Rainy, what do you mean _you_ were trying to protect him? And by staying away?" There's a smile peeking through but Wanda pushes it down. "Honey, Pietro could disappear from the face of the Earth in a second if he wanted to...no one can catch him. And must I remind you that your folks weren't _that_ _cheery_ when finding out about you guys then?"

Rainy has a father  
He wanted to call her a disgrace from being with a mutant

There was no evidence to prove her as one, however

"You aren't obligated to follow your dad anymore, you know," Wanda continues. She coats her third toenail in black polish. Her short green gym shorts rise up as she leans forward. "He isn't mayor anymore either."

"I know, that's why—-!"

Wanda cuts her off. She asks if the other had been truthful earlier, and asks if Rainy still wants to rectify. "I don't lie," was Rainy's answer. Wanda huffs into the phone. She states that in order for her to aid in _any way_ , she'd have to know what exactly happened.

"I told you, we had a disagreement."

"You were saying something about being faithful and genuine..."

Rainy bites her tongue. She wishes she hadn't said that. Wanda presses for the truth and she knows she can't get out of this one.

"Well we had a quarrel. He accused me of taking advantage of him, and thought I wasn't being genuine. And I told him that I felt he was being secretive and was keeping secrets. I suspected he was seeing someone like with...but I ruled that out..."

Wanda nods. "You have to forgive him. Neither of us—no-one—we're all doesn't like telling things because we're used to having everything secretive." She listens, then asks if Rainy had/still thought those things, to which she denies. "He said that you were ashamed of him, and that's what really riled him up."

Rainy took an extended breath. She slid to the floor with her back against the counter wall, still clutching the telephone, receiver, and cord. Now, she'd _have_ to tell everything. "That's not true—-!"

"Then what is, Rainy?" Wanda's tone is sharp.

And Rainy hesitates. She sits there against the wall with Wanda coaxing in her ear. She's trembling...until her mouth finally opens. "It-it started with my father. He had been growing suspicious..."


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: And so here's the final one.  
**_

* * *

 _..._

* * *

Timeline 2

* * *

Wanda raises a fist to the tall, rich dark twin doors, thinks twice about this, swallows her anxiety and _pounds_ on the one on the right. It takes a few moments until the door swings open and she's peering up at a tall stud in a pair of glasses.

Wanda sucks in a sharp breath.

And there's a noticeable pause.

"Can I help you?" Hank is staring and is slightly bewildered, back and forth from Wanda to the cracked open gate far up the trail. He perces his lips. "Um, how did you get up here?"

She watches him clutch the side of the door tightly. Her eyes flicker back up to his and her head tilts. "Yes. I am the one you _cut off_ on earlier. This is that school for gifted kids, right? Owned by Charles Xavier?"

"Well that depends on who's asking."

Now, she forces an honest smile. "I'm here for Pietro. Pietro Maximoff. You might know him as _Peter_." She did air quotes with her fingers for his Americanized nickname. She sees him look her over once.

"Um..." Hank's fingers drum against the wood once. His eyes squint. " _Who are you_?" He looks out to the opened gate again. "And _how_ did you get past the—-"

Wanda's eyes narrow. Her head straightens. Behind Hank's back, she sees a teen with a white mohawk walking alongside what looks like a literal _blue_ _devil_ in a red shirt and her eyes grow wide. She looks back up to Hank.

"Is that guy here? The big one with the..." She motioned to style her hair in two horns, and then holding her arms out at her side indicating muscle. "Wolverine? Hogan, I think it was?"

She sees Hank's eyes widen and his tongue darts out again. He wonders how she could have known Logan. "I don't know who you're talking about," he lies, when in reality the last he's heard of the other mutant was from Jean and Scott when the man ran from Stryker's facility.

Wanda's hands fall and slap to her thighs at his response. She looks up and around he door-frame. "But this is the school for mutants, isn't it?"

This time Hank seems to visibly grow annoyed. "Are you with the government?"

"No, I—-"

"Then if you don't have business here and if you're not a parent, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Her eyes widen. But before her opened mouth could speak the more grating words she had been holding back, Hank turns around at the sound of an electric motor approaching. He and Wanda look down the short corridor at Charles Xavier approaching with a deep frown on his features. Wanda blinks, her legs spreading and planting defensively.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Charles glances at Hank before looking Wanda over once, lingering on her eyes. "May we help you, Miss?" He smiles, and she glances wearily between the two.

She starts slow. "Yes...Is...This is the school for mutants, right?" Charles began to object, to sugarcoat it and convince _gifted_ instead, but stops as she continues with more determination. "It said it on the plaque out there by the gate. You really should get that fixed by the way..." She points with her thumb over her shoulder.

Charles, confused and then surprised, glances at Hank.

"And you're Charles Xavier...?" Her hands fidget. She begins picking at the dark nail polish applied just a couple days ago.

Charles gives an affirming _yes_ , and then shakes her hand as he leans on one elbow, fingers touching his temple. Wanda gives her first name, looking accusingly at Hank, and flashes a snarky half-smile.

"Yes, Ms. Wanda," and Charles invites her in. She notices that he visibly relaxes, and then he smiles. "I know _exactly_ why you're here. Let her through, Hank."

Wanda raises a brow boastfully. Hank looks on, incredulously.

Charles calls over his shoulder: "And close the door, Hank! Lest we have more expecting guests."

And the other wants to give an accusation, to state that their concern should be _the breached security system_ and not inviting in some stranger! Hank puts on the four bolt locks on the front doors, catches up and voices his concerns—he states that he doesn't think that _this_ (unknown) _woman_ should be allowed inside after sneaking past their defenses.

Wanda frowns.

"Then I guess you'd better get on to fixing that, yeah?" Charles doesn't even raise a brow or waver his tone.

Wanda bites her lips at Charles' response. Her brown hair is bouncing on her shoulders as she follows the professor. A handful of children pass by.

Charles turns looks to her for a moment, guiding her down the way and leaving Hank behind. She notices that he seems less troubled; maybe it had to do with one of these kids she keeps seeing running around?

"I'm actually relieved that you came."

"You—you are? ...How'd you know I was going to come...?"

"I didn't," he smiles. Charles waves a hand, telling that, "the room is right down this way. I really hope this can be straightened out. We've been running out of food weeks early, there's been complaints, and the bedroom door has been locked for days. No one has been able to get in."

She's looking at a bust sculpture they pass. The hallway is narrow and lined with doors along each side.

"Um, Doctor—-"

" _Professor_ , if you may."

"Um, ok, _Professor_... I'm not sure if we're thinking the same thing why I came..."

The electric motor of the wheelchair stops and Charles looks back up at Wanda. She can't meet his surprised gaze right away, and instead catches sight of a dual-haired kid who has a nose like a Guinea pig.

"You know Peter, do you not?" He sounds worried now. Wanda nods—she does. "So I assume you can knock some sense into him?"

Wanda shuffles on her feet. "Oh." Then, "how did you know—-" But then she thought for a moment. "Never mind."

 _Oh, yeah. He's telepathic._

Charles tells that the majority of the students were still out off campus and back home. The two had passed a small lounging room and study area that had been occupied by a few who remained. As they round the corner, this hall was empty, save for a girl kneeling and trying to speak through a keyhole. The boy beside her taps the girl's shoulder as Wanda and the professor approach.

Jean's head is low as she stands. "I tried, but I can't seem to get in. He doesn't want to listen and the door still won't budge..."

Wanda watches as Charles gives Jean's arm a thanking squeeze, and the two teens are asked to step out the way.

The boy in the sunglasses grumbles that this situation has gone on for too long, that "he keeps stealing and eating all the food and I'm pretty sure he stole some of my movies." Scott's pouting like a child.

Jean rolls her eyes to his direction. "You mean your _porno_ _movies_ you stole from your uncle?"

And Scott is flustered. "No! I—I don't have—there isn't anything like that I'd take—-!"

"Yeah sure," Jean cuts him off. Both she and Scott lean against the wall opposite of Wanda and the professor, watching the former press her ear to the door. "Peter's just in distress, Scott."

Scott huffs.

Wanda raps on the door lightly, once, three times. She calls to her brother softly. "...Pietro?"

There's a beat of a pause. " _I said GO AWAY!_ " comes as a choked holler from inside making Wanda jerk her ear from the door. She stands and stares at the closed door and begins biting a fingernail. She knocks again, twice, three times. There's no answer. She calls something in her mother, non-English tongue. Then she glances at Charles. "How long has this been?"

"About half a week, I'd presume."

Jean nods.

Wanda takes a step back as she looks the door over. "Sounds about right," she sighs.

That's when Jubilee walks up, munching on a chocolate bar. Scott marvels at how she had managed to get a hold of any candy. He was surprised that any was left. Jubilee shrugs, revealing that Peter doesn't bother her belongings.

Scott has his hands in his jacket pockets. "I thought you were with Ororo?"

"She's busy in the big library." Jubilation snuggles in the tiny space between Scott and Jean, completely oblivious to the scowl from the former. "What's going on here? Who's she?" She points to the Wanda.

Wanda knocks harder on the heavy dark wooden door. She tries the knob and finds it locked. "Open the door." And she's met by more silence. "Pietro, open the door!" her tongue rolls around his name, "or I swear to _God!_ " She tries not to allow the tiny seeds of panic that are starting to plant, seep into her voice.

A muffled "leave me alone!" is faintly heard before Wanda steps back. She rolls back the sleeves of her light sweater, flexes her fingers. Jean's brows begin to rise; Jubilee and Scott's draw together.

"How long has this been going on again?" Wanda asks Charles.

Jean answers for him. "This is the fourth day. Straight."

Wanda kneels to eye level with the door knob and hums. She raises her fingers to the keyhole. The small audience watches as her fingertips glow a dark fuchsia and thin tendrils of vapor slither in through the keyhole. She flexes her fingers. The tip of her tongue sticks out as she concentrates. And a minute later, the click of the door unlocking sounds. She curls and then quickly opens her fingers, and a small pulse goes through the air. The door creaks open.

Jubilee gives a small clap of praise.

But the mutant practically kicks down the door as she storms inside. There's a chair knocked over and off to the side that she walks past. Seeing the nearest bed—and the massive lump of comforter on top—she pauses. Wanda calls her brother's name again, accent seeping through. She knows that he probably was going through one of his fits again and would _possibly_ not want to see her—he doesn't like seeing anyone during those moments—but what he wants was greatly outweighing by duty and what _needs_ to be done.

The large mass of comforter flinches in response to Wanda's call. He doesn't respond, so she calls again. And when there's still stubborn silence, she brings her hands down, grabs fist-fulls of the thick blanket and _shakes_ the entire bed.

" _Get up!_ "

The bed-frame creaks a little. There's a muffled collection of cursing, and a bewildered " _what the hell_?"

Jubilee, Jean, and Scott are peeking around Charles to see. The professor calls that he's going to to go attend to someone needing his help in a study. Jean speaks that she doesn't hear anyone and is shushed. She sees the professor give her a look and press his two fingers to his temple. The rest are watching and see Pietro's head pops out from inside the makeshift cocoon, sporting a deep scowl and messy bedhead. And Wanda leans, popping her hip to the side. She's flicks on the room lights and her brother blinks as his eyes adjust.

"Hello, _moj brat_."

And when he sees her, he's confused.

When he sees her, he's embarrassed—

And when the dots connect in his mind, then he becomes _pissed_.

His gaze snaps toward the open door, and then he's scrambling to untangle from the bed sheets. "I'm going to _murder_ him! You...have no reason being here," he directs to his sister. And then "... _four eyes_!"

Jubilee whispers, "I think he means you."

And Scott knows this and immediately stiffens.

Now, Wanda turns a hand in the air and the door slams shut before her brother could hobble outside. The lock clicking into place is loud in the quiet room. "It's not his fault," she breaths. "It's mine."

Pietro had sped forward before leaning too much on his broken leg, crying out, and grappling for the wall. He remains still for a few more moments after she speaks before slowly turning to look over his shoulder.

"What do you mean your fault? This is all theirs because they keep sticking their noses—-you aren't even supposed to _be_ here," he hisses. He's clearly nervous and she knows the situation is now sinking in. He wishes he had at least reached for his crutch before getting up. "Go home, Wanda!"

She watches him struggle to support himself against the ivory wallpaper. She scoffs. "I came here myself. I got a call." She goes to sling his arm behind her neck and help him back to the bed. He protests, of course. "And besides... _god you're heavy_...you look pitiful."

Pietro sinks to the mattress with a sigh. He runs his hands over the cast as a faux comfort mechanism.

Her fingers drum on her biceps, arms crossed. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"You say _nothing_ a lot."

Pause.

The professor is halfway down the hallway when Jubilee asks who that woman was who had gone inside the room. As far as she knew, they all would have gotten their necks wrung if they ever woke Peter like that. Now, Jean has that same look and smirk in her eyes just as back at the mall's theater.

"That's his twin."

Jubilee doesn't hold in her gasp then either.

"No one called me over here," Wanda explains. "Well none of _them_. I came on my own." She looks around the room. There's space enough for two occupants; she notices by the second bed and dresser, but no more. "What happened? Really?"

"Nothing happened. And I don't need a chaperone, and _definitely not_ my _sister_ coming and _mothering_ me." He's still frowning. "Everything here is _fine_." And his chest puffs. "I don't need your help, Wanda."

Her sight lands on a discarded pile of wrappers, most of them Hershey's products.

"It doesn't look like it," she sighs. "And I'm familiar that you have a record of doing _nothing_ when it's called for, _Pietro_. Marya told me, by the way." She sees him scowl and his mouth opens to talk. She holds out a finger for him to silence. "Ok, but doing nothing a _few times_."

He's focused elsewhere in the room. "Good. So now, we've settled this, I don't need everyone thinking—-"

"I know, Pietro. I...I know about what happened."

He's confused, her changing the subject. " _What_ happened? Is Marya okay? Is—-"

"They're fine. ...I...um, Sherry called me."

"Sherry?" He looks back at his cast, tracing over the Sharpie marker images. He remembers and knows who she is, but wonders if Wanda is on the same page and speaking about the same person.

"Sherry from high school," she answers. "She told me that she saw you at the local mall not too long ago." Her folded arms squeeze tighter together. "She also told me about Rainy."

His head turns, meeting her gaze very slowly.

Out in the hallway, the teens are listening through the door. Kurt, having recently walked up, notices the gleam in Jubilee's eye as she goes to press an ear to the door. All were still quite stunned by Wanda's dramatic entrance and are torn between eavesdropping and walking away. The professor is rolling away and Scott taps Jubilee's arm to grab her attention. Jean bites the inside of her cheek, voices that maybe she should go back and say something.

Scott pauses, bounces on the heels of his sneakers. "Why are you so concerned about him?"

Jean shrugs, drumming her nails on her red lipstick.

Scott frowns. "Do you _like_ him?"

She looks stunned and objects. She doesn't catch that he relaxes at her answer.

In the bedroom, Wanda crosses her arms. "This is just like last time," and she grumbles.

"Last time?" A brow snaps.

Her eyes scan the room again, falling on empty boxes of sugar food and Chex Mix. "You've been sulking again." And then of course he objects but she interrupts him as she continues. "Why didn't you do anything about her this time? Don't you want this to be over?"

Her question leaves a chill in the air. Her brother's chest puffs as he silently inhales.

And still he plays dumb.

 _Why didn't you go after her this time?_

"I know why you're scared." She sees his expression lax. "I know how you feel."

And then his expression hardens again. "Oh do you? Like when that douchebag in high school ditched you to go out with that Blondie? Or was it the one who you dropped after, like, a week? Or was it when you had those two guys pawning after you—-you know the two, and you _swore_ it was _"forever and ever."_ But you never really cared, did you? You were always scared." He scoffs, chin tilting. He looks cynical. "Wanda, you don't know _how_ I feel..."

"This isn't about me."

"For once," he scoffs.

"Pietro, I'm serious. Why didn't you...I was told that nothing happened." She swallows her hurt from his words, but then a realization hit. "And you're criticizing _me_ and yet you're sulking over a girl you never really liked! This is just like that Mckenzie situation all over again!"

"I'm not _sulking_!" He looks angry, purely angry.

"You're not? Then what do you call all of this? This looks really similar like with Rainy... And here she is _again_ , and you _still_ don't do anything about it? Stop lying! And this isn't like those _flings_ you had in Europe. She isn't like that guy from Albania. You're just hurt because you don't really, _really_ like her! Admit it!"

" _She left me!_ " His holler reaches the hallway outside, and the teens turn, hearing it.

Pietro is sitting, hands balled into fists and glaring up at his sister before turning to stare at a random corner.

Wanda's tone is calm now. "And you don't think she felt bad about it?"

"Well you always thought she was a stone-cold bitch. I guess you're right, Wanda." He can't meet her gaze, and the twisted smile fades quickly.

She sighs. Sometimes she deplores her younger decisions. "Well I guess I was wrong..." She grits her teeth.

Pietro's head snaps up. His anger wanes.

"Yeah," she rubs an arm. "She was very emotional over the phone."

There's a second, a beat that passes that he takes it all in. "Bullshit."

In the hallway outside the bedroom, Jubilee is slouched in a large chair across from Scott who has Jean seated beside him. After Pietro's startling yell, all had become utterly silent, and the four waited to hear if it would happen again. Scott sighs. Jean picks at her teeth with a nail. Jubilee and Kurt exchange looks when they hear Wanda's muffled voice, talking about wasted chance and repeats.

"Am I the only one who's bothered by this?" Jean's hand slaps to her thigh.

Jubilee and Scott press their lips in straight lines.

"Well," Jubilee starts, "you are empathetic, right? So...yeah, kinda."

Jean sighs.

Scott raises his hands to rests on the back of the sofa and behind Jean's shoulders. "Why are you so worried about all this anyway?"

Now, Jean is picking at her cherry red nail polish. "Because," and she shrugs. "This was all my fault. ...If I hadn't been so nosy and meddled..."

Then Scott is waving a hand. He encouraged that it wasn't her fault and they all played a part in this.

"But I'm the only one that's worried."

He shrugs.

"Well it's not really any of our business," Jubilee adds. She means this gossip-worthy backstory and argument going on inside.

There's another call, they hear. This time it's Wanda raising her voice, speaking in a different language.

"I wonder what's going on," Jean muses.

Other than Jubilee raising a brow in agreement, there wasn't another word.

Jean remains seated for several more seconds before lurching from her seat. She calls that she _has_ to know what's happening, and goes to press an ear to the wooden door. Jubilee isn't far behind. Jean offers to peek in the twins' minds to get a clearer understanding; Jubilee's eyes widen in agreement.

While Scott is the one bewildered on the couch, he doesn't really _want_ to object. Instead, Kurt does—calling over to the girls, he asks if this was a wise decision. Both girls lock gazes and consider.

"Mind-reading is what started this in the first place."

Both girls begin to reconsider.

Inside the room, they overhear Wanda again, this time interrupting and speaking over her brother. "I'm not saying...good or bad, I'm just saying to reevaluate." He retorted with something about _stupidity_.

Jubilee and Jean remove their ears from the door and take a seat on the cold floor. Jubilee chides Kurt on "why does he always have to be the noble one?" Sure, the two mutants got along together more than the other ones, but Kurt didn't have to go and ruin this for them.

"So," Jean turns to the other. She makes sure to keep her volume to a minimum. "What do you think about all this?"

"Juicy."

"I meant the ladies, Jubilee. What do you think about Wanda and Rainy? It's kinda—-"

"Weird? Like unexpected?" Jubilee earns a nod in response. "Me too. I'm more interested in the old high school pictures to be honest," she smiles.

In the bedroom, Wanda is leant against a wall, flexing her fingers. Across from her, her brother is almost _fuming_ —face a tinge red and glaring through his eyebrows. "This all goes both ways, you know," she speaks. He doesn't respond. "And I'm quite sure that if you give her the chance, she'll show that she's really sorry." He still doesn't respond; his chest puffs and he looks to his faded socks. "And you know how she is—albeit better than I do—so you probably know—-"

He interrupts, stating that it wouldn't matter, and Wanda asks "why not?" But he can't think of a good enough excuse.

They had been younger and reckless then

That time has changed and so have they

That there's no way they feel the same for each other

That there's no way he should still be feeling the same way

"Then why did you kiss her, Piet?"

He still doesn't have an answer.

Wanda hums.

"Well if you ask me," she says as she pushes off from the wall, "it's obvious that letting this happen a second time would be a worse choice."

This time, he couldn't even glare at her—instead it was more of worry. Pietro leans over his knees, resting his elbows atop the caps and he begins biting his thumbnails. He stares off at nothing in particular.

"I really did talk to her, though." And I remember how close you guys were."

He still doesn't answer.

Back over the phone Wanda had prompted.

 _"Rainy, you need to tell me the truth."_

Rainy had told the story, her side, about the complication of her father, what started this rift, the fault in her wrong—-

 _"Don't apologize to me,"_ Wanda said.

A black, heavy stone had made home in Rainy's gut.

 _"But I have to know if you really, really, really mean it, Rainy, because I'm not there. I'm not going to help if you don't." And then she says, " because if you don't you won't hear the end of it from me. If you want to get back with him, you better commit. Because if you break his heart again—Rainy I trust you, but if you break his heart again, I can't forgive you. At least not this easily."_

 _This was easily?_

The tension in the room has evaporated and a different kind of heaviness fills it. This one that makes your hands shake and brain indecisive and nervous ticks activate.

"I've been wrong. I admit it," Wanda sighs. "But she promised. She said she was really sorry. And I really think you should go see her again. Straighten it all out, at least."

Wanda had made Rainy promise, more like

Pietro looks up. His face scrunches, nose wrinkling, catching Wanda's stretched truth. "What did you do? What did you say?!"

Out in the hall, Jubilee and Jean are walking back to the couches when the door creaks and Wanda exits. The door is quietly shut and then Kurt speaks up, beating Jean. He asks if everything is alright because he heard yelling.

Wanda forces herself to meet their gazes, and lies—she nods _yes_. And then she's asked if there was anything they could do to help—but they barely understood the weight of the situation, at least personally.

And Wanda shakes her head. She forces a smile, picturing her brother all too well, knowing he's still in that deciding position then he'd pace for an hour or so. "No. This is something Peter has to resolve on his own."

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** ** _Revie_ _ws_ say if _this was good or not. Alerts don't say anything. I would really, really, really like to hear your opinions and I can't stress it enough. :)_**

 ** _Ok so this is it for this short!_** ** _All thanks for the idea goes to Lyra, The_** ** _Besetest_** ❤

 ** _(I was thinking of writing a smut one-shot. Should I? How, about who, what? Or should I leave the idea alone?)_**


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